The Tale of Sir Gareth
by J. Dawnwolf
Summary: One Shot! Not a fairy tale, but a tale of king Arthur's knights. Full review on page. Rating cos I'm a bit paranoid about this one please read and review, it'd make my day!


**A/n – This is set at the point that Christianity was taking hold in Wales, overtaking the Celtic religions. You don't need to know any Celtic mythology save that Rhiannon was Queen of the Underworld. I wrote this for a Guide Camp and got told off because it was too scary for some of the youngest ones, bearing in mind that we were telling them after dark! Please R&R, I'd love to finally get some feedback on this old story.**

King Arthur and his knights have gathered together in Camelot to swap tales of glory. Several of the knights take their turns, but Gareth remains silent. This merely piques the curiosity of the other knights until they asked him how his questing time ahs been spent. This was his reply.

The Tale of Sir Gareth 

"Good knights, I do not come before you to tell of dragons or damsels, goblins or ghouls, witches or wizards. I have found neither the fountain of youth nor the Holy Grail. My story is of a higher power and a darker danger.

"I was journeying in woods which, though they be far to the south of this castle, I know well, and I do not startle easily, so when three crows sat upon a branch near my resting place I did not think much of them. Yet suddenly, it seemed as if I heard in the distance singing. It rose in volume and intensity until it seemed that this dazzling-voiced woman must be almost before me – yet she was not.

"A gentle sound of hooves as of a cantering horse pervaded the clearing until, suddenly, both singing and hooves stopped.

" 'Gareth,' called a soft voice, 'Gareth!' then the speaker appeared, without moving, from the very air! Her skin was snowy pale, her eyes burning like black coals, her hair like dragon's fire. I knew her instantly, Queen of the Old Gods whom I did not believe in.

"Rhiannon.

"The old religion was trying to claim me from my God. The three birds in the tree were hers, now singing to wake the dead – and lull the living to sleep. I fought to keep my eyes open as I grasped the hilt of my sword, stumbling to my feet, feeling the cross in the pommel seemingly on fire against my palm. The ground below me began shaking as the birds sang a final, pure note.

" 'If you will not come to my world, Sir Gareth,' spat Rhiannon, her face now full of darkness, 'then my world shall come to you.'

"She wheeled her horse around and she, and the birds, were gone. Drawing my sword, I sprang aside as a figure erupted from the ground at my very feet. Tall and thin, earth-caked and decaying, the dead soldier lurched towards me. I remembered too late that this wood had grown up on an old battlefield. These ghastly soldiers must have long lain restless here. I swung my sword back and forth, faster and faster, the blade glinting red in the dying sunlight. The dead fell again, yet still more burst from the ground and flung their decomposing bodies at me…

"A stillness enveloped the glade. A dark mist swirled around, clinging to me, cloying and sickly-sweet and I choked, turned blindly, fought to see. Twin points of fire sparked in the gloom. It dawned that in the glade with me was a being of darkness, formed of the twisted, dead flesh of the still-rising soldiers, this demon of the Old Gods had come to claim me. I spat out a mouthful of blood and raised my sword high,

" 'The power of the Old Gods will not fade, Gareth.'

"It's voice buzzed like the flies of pestilence, its misshapen mouth moving out of time with the words. But I smiled grimly and made the sign of the cross with my right hand.

" 'When you are forgotten, then you shall be gone,' I replied and, diving forwards, plunged my sword deep into the unholy flesh. Smoke poured from the wound, fire burning through my gloves and into my skin, here, where the flesh is now raw. The blade and hilt of my sword were absorbed into the mass of dissolving flesh and blood, skin and bone, and disappeared into nothing. All that remained was the cross from the hilt.

" 'Then you shall be gone.' "


End file.
